March 1998

I often pause to remember my father, who died 8 years ago this coming month.

In his 67 years of life he rarely knew peace.  His own father died when he was young, and his embittered mother became an alcoholic and remained one until the day she died 25 years later.  He served in World War II for three years, and was unable to complete college because of the war--a source of great frustration that never left him.  He was a product of the Great Depression with all the resulting fears and economic concerns.  He was married twice and held many different jobs.

The last time I saw my Dad was on Good Friday.  Just that morning he had decided to stop all chemotherapy and submit to death after battling cancer for three years.  He told us why.  “I have spent the last two weeks surveying my entire life, everything I have ever done, the jobs, the moral and ethical decisions.  I don’t think that I have left out anything.  And I have come to the conclusion that the only hope I have is in Easter Morning.  I want to work for Jesus.”

While my Dad understood the marketplace, he struggled with his faith in Christ in the midst of pursuing wealth, power and status.  Although to a large extent he succeeded, in the end he only counted as valuable that which was eternally important. 

At my father’s funeral there were many city leaders; the Mayor of Seattle opened the service.  It was touching and wonderful; yet I couldn’t help but think that Dad’s view of his life from his new vantage point was quite different.

“I am the vine itself and you are the branches.  It is the person who shares my life and whose life I share who proves fruitful.  For the plain fact is that apart from me you can do nothing at all”

John 15:5 (J.B. Phillips)

As I walk through the City of Vancouver, I increasingly view life as my father came to view it.  Could it be that my father’s greatest gift to me was this final focused view of the true realities of life?

Blessings,

Thomas Cooper

Volume VII, Issue 2

98-V7-I2.DOC/11-Mar-98